


Home Is Where It Starts

by irisbleufic



Series: Meant to Be Here [5]
Category: Dirk Gently's Holistic Detective Agency (TV 2016)
Genre: Accidental Marriage, Asexuality Spectrum, Banter, Bisexuality, Cuddling & Snuggling, Demisexuality, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Sex, Engagement, Established Relationship, Everybody Is On Todd's Case And Guess Why, F/F, F/M, Families of Choice, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Friendship/Love, Humor, Idiots in Love, Jewish Character, Kissing, M/M, Multi, Naked Cuddling, Protectiveness, Self-Reflection, Shovel Talk, Siblings, Slow Dancing, Unconventional Families, Useless Lesbians, Wedding Planning, Weddings, kind of, only not really, protective friends
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-15
Updated: 2018-08-15
Packaged: 2019-06-27 14:08:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15686961
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/irisbleufic/pseuds/irisbleufic
Summary: “While I’m not entirely down with theGreasereference, I appreciate the sentiment,” Dirk told Amanda. He tilted his chin up against Todd’s shoulder, looking Todd in the eye as best he could from such an awkward angle. “I’ve cracked what’s happening case-wise.”“You meannothappening case-wise?” Todd asked, worming his hand behind Dirk so he could put his arm around him. “None of these leads are viable. Even the realtor’s pest-control thing was a first-three-months standard courtesy. I checked with other clients of theirs.”“We’re trying too hard,” Dirk said. “We had two major cases come so fast and furious that we’re expecting the next one to behave the same way. What if it doesn’t? What if the most pressing concern is the one we’ve stumbled into by accident, but nonetheless agreed upon unanimously?”“I didn’t agree to you nerds putting a ring on it,” said Amanda, but in jest. “I have concerns.”“Yeah, well,” said Todd, sticking the correct earbud in his left ear, “unanimous means two.”





	Home Is Where It Starts

**Sisterly Advice**

Dirk had never quite understood the appeal of mix tapes—or, as the updated parlance may be, playlists—until now. He’d spent the better part of two days sifting more insufferably dull emails that did _not_ point to potential cases. Earbuds were his new best friend.

Across the room, at Todd’s Desk, Amanda appeared to be making an animated nuisance of herself. She hadn’t given any indication of when her crew and their van planned to roll out of the alley behind the Agency’s fenced-in back garden, either.

Martin’s idea of a tame marauding session was wrapping up by two in the morning, and the other three founding members stood by his judgment. It was a miracle there had been no noise complaints, and even _more_ of one that America didn’t have an ASBO-equivalent.

Meanwhile, Todd had grown steadily unnerved by the gifts, usually tagged _BIBBIT_ on the backs of crinkled gas station receipts, that Beast had taken to leaving on their doorstep. They had debated the meaning of six colorful interlinked bike-locks for days, but hadn’t drawn any conclusions.

Shifting uncomfortably on the sofa, Dirk stretched his legs, which resulted in a clipped mewl from Jaws. Rubbing the cat’s belly, he got her to settle, stretched tail-tip to nose, along his thigh.

As one song faded into the next, Dirk heard Amanda ask, “He says you guys are getting married?”

Whether it was dishonest to eavesdrop or not didn’t figure into the equation. Because it concerned him, Dirk needed to know. He killed the music, but left in his earbuds.

“At some point, yeah,” Todd agreed absently, clicking through a different mess of browser tabs on his desktop. “It’s not like we’ve set a date or anything. We’re not in a rush.”

“Yeah, but…” Amanda made a pained sound, thumping Todd’s desk. “It’s all he talks about.”

“That’s news? You know how he gets when he’s excited about something,” Todd said fondly.

Dirk pursed his lips, reading the same sentence on his screen a third time through as Amanda did what sounded like landing a smack upside Todd’s head. In spite of Todd’s cry, Dirk couldn’t afford to let her know he was paying attention. He’d never get the low-down otherwise.

“Look, dumb-ass,” she said in the voice she used when Todd was being obtuse, “I just wanna make sure you’re as excited about it as he is. Dirk’s way too cool to end up with a broken heart because of your bullshit. You kinda already did that to him once.”

“I did not!” Todd said reflexively, and then paused, pensive. “Wait, do you mean back when—”

“Duh. _Yes_ , when you told him you never wanted to speak to him again and didn’t see him till the day he got out of the hospital that first time around. Even honest-you can still be a self-centered dick!” Amanda railed. “I mean, who knows that better than me?”

“Dirk,” Todd sighed in defeat. “But he looks past it just like I look past his impulsiveness.”

“Marriage is about a whole lot more compromise than that,” Amanda said. “Are you ready?”

Attempting to get his elevated pulse under control, Dirk ran his left hand along Jaws’s flank. The only thing more sobering than the intensity of Amanda’s protectiveness toward him was the past legitimacy of her grounds for harboring such a sentiment.

“We’ve traveled through time, visited a dimension that shouldn’t exist, and almost died together at least a dozen times,” Todd replied, his conviction unwavering. “Think about it. I love him so much that I’ve given everything up, Amanda—even you.”

The next sound was reassuring, as if Amanda were patting Todd harmlessly on the shoulders.

“You didn’t give me up. I gave _you_ the heave-ho, because I can take care of myself now,” Amanda corrected him. “I still love you or whatever, but…yeah. We moved on.”

Dirk wanted to yank out his earbuds and rush to Todd’s side, but Jaws had flipped over such that all four paws were pressed along the seam of his jeans. She kneaded at him, claws catching.

“I thought we sorted our shit out,” said Todd, quietly. “This conversation’s tying my stomach in knots, like you don’t think I understand the gravity of deciding to spend my life with someone.”

Amanda snorted, unable to restrain her laughter. Out of the corner of his eye, Dirk watched her catch Todd around the neck from behind and put him in a mock-stranglehold.

“Did you and Dirk _really_ make the decision alone, though? Any more than I made mine?”

Dirk couldn’t listen any further. He removed his earbuds with care and turned to hang over the arm of the sofa, wincing as Jaws, purring away, flexed her claws in protest.

“Of course not!” he interjected, startling them both. “The universe had a hand in it. Lydia Spring had a hand in it. Blackwing had a hand in it. Even you, Amanda, had a hand in it.”

“Sheesh, way to be a creeper,” Amanda said, folding her arms across her chest. “Were you…”

“Listening the whole time?” retorted Todd, as if severely disappointed in his sister’s expectations of her present company. “You bet your ass. What did you think he was doing?”

Amanda covered her eyes in sheer embarrassment, pacing back and forth in front of the window.

“I was _trying_ to give you some sisterly advice. Before you, like, fuck with your super-sweet, hopelessly-devoted boyfriend’s life. I care about Dirk, too, dipshit.”

Dirk was relieved that Todd came over to extract Jaws from her clingy strop and join him on the sofa, because he hadn’t had the heart to evict the cat himself. He melted into Todd’s side.

“While I’m not entirely down with the _Grease_ reference, I appreciate the sentiment,” Dirk told Amanda. He tilted his chin up against Todd’s shoulder, looking Todd in the eye as best he could from such an awkward angle. “I’ve cracked what’s happening case-wise.”

“You mean _not_ happening case-wise?” Todd asked, worming his hand behind Dirk so he could put his arm around him. “None of these leads are viable. Even the realtor’s pest-control thing was a first-three-months standard courtesy. I checked with other clients of theirs.”

“We’re trying too hard,” Dirk said. “We had two major cases come so fast and furious that we’re expecting the next one to behave the same way. What if it doesn’t? What if the most pressing concern is the one we’ve stumbled into by accident, but nonetheless agreed upon unanimously?”

“I didn’t agree to you nerds putting a ring on it,” said Amanda, but in jest. “I have concerns.”

“Yeah, well,” said Todd, sticking the correct earbud in his left ear, “unanimous means two.”

Dirk stuck the other one in his right, cuddling closer as he flung his arm across Todd’s middle.

Amanda gagged loudly and headed for the staircase. “You guys are adorkable. It’s disgusting.”

Todd kissed Dirk, slow and thorough, like he didn’t care who might stroll back in. “Hey.”

“I’m trying to pick songs for the reception,” Dirk explained. “No such thing as over-prepared.”

“Taking up holistic wedding-planning, huh?” Todd asked, grinning at him. “Lay ’em on me.”

 

**Shovel Talk**

After their argument of several days before, Todd had coaxed some annoying information out of Amanda. Namely, that both she and Martin had an inkling that they should hang around a while longer, and that the other members of the Rowdy 3—six if you were being strict, but, _oh_ , that explained the bike locks—were perfectly happy to keep raising hell in Seattle.

Since they’d rolled into town, Dirk had experienced two episodes of high emotion that had almost brought four of the crew down on him for feeding. Todd felt guilty about not being as adept at triggering his attacks as Amanda was at triggering her own. He could at least have been useful to both Dirk _and_ their backyard guests.

Dirk liked to snipe at Todd every time he called the fenced-in space a yard instead of a garden. Luckily, there was a wider variety of pleasurable ways to shut him down than ever before.

Some nights, when Dirk was too sleepy-sated to want to do _anything_ productive after sex—or actual Netflix, or hanging with the girls, or chasing Jaws until she surrendered the latest dead mouse—Todd liked to sit in the office with his guitar. He couldn’t play while Dirk was asleep, but he could keep his finger-work in shape.

Tina had joined him a few times and rocked out in silence. Farah had caught them at it once and walked right back out of the room like she didn’t even want to know what was happening.

Tonight, Todd was alone on the sofa earlier than usual. Dirk had turned in with a stomachache thanks to the very authentic, _very_ spicy fajitas Farah had made. He had scarcely selected one of the guitar picks from the case he’d brought over from his desk when the entire thing vaulted itself off the sofa cushion. Only one of the picks was to blame.

Mona shook herself off, brushing at her thin silk dress. She plucked at the handful of picks that had stuck to the backs of her thighs, dropping them on the floor, and joined Todd on the sofa.

“I can’t recommend being one of those,” she told him. “Insubstantial. You might blow away.”

Todd hadn’t seen Mona since the day Jaws had playfully batted her, pen-shaped, off the table.

“I’m sorry?” he offered awkwardly. “I don’t blame you for staying inanimate, our guests are…”

Mona shrugged, reaching over to pluck idly at Todd’s guitar strings. “I’ve traveled with them.”

In spite of how uncomfortable the gesture made him, Todd let her. He never understood Mona’s sense of social etiquette, if any. He’d once walked into the office to find her perched naked on Dirk’s desk while flipping through a magazine to which Dirk didn’t subscribe.

“I know you see me as little more than an unpredictable house pet,” said Mona, setting a hand on Todd’s arm, her touch as vital as any human’s. “You have more regard for the cat.”

“That’s not true,” Todd insisted, setting his guitar aside. “It’s just…I haven’t known you as long as Dirk has, and I find it hard to connect because chairs, pens, and stress dolls don’t talk back.”

“I listen,” replied Mona, with a hint of offense. “I hear everything within these four walls.”

Todd decided to try a different angle. She obviously had an agenda, but she wasn’t getting to it.

“Dirk says it takes you a while to warm up to people,” he said. “What can I do differently?”

“You can tell me why you want Dirk,” Mona replied. “People always want him for a reason.”

Todd’s heart stuttered in his chest, heralding a familiar sensation of skin-prickling dread.

“I love him,” Todd insisted. “I never want to be far from him. I can’t stand to see him suffer.”

Mona tilted her head at him appraisingly. “You think you’ve seen him suffer,” she said calmly.

That was a trick statement if Todd had ever heard one, and he knew exactly why it was, too.

“Dirk can tell me what they did to all of you in Blackwing as many times as he wants, or doesn’t want,” Todd said with regret, “and I’ll never fully understand. I can’t. I wasn’t there to see.”

Mona hauled Todd’s hands into her lap, turning them palms-up, as if she might find insight there.

“What they did to all of us? Why, they did unto each of us differently,” she said, tracing Todd’s lifelines in parallel, the antiquated turn of phrase an incantation on her tongue.

“Dirk has scars,” Todd agreed, refusing to withdraw his hands even as delicate blue flames scorched his flesh in the wake of her touch. “Ones I can see, and—and ones I can’t, _fuck_ , how are you doing this to me, I don’t—”

Mona withdrew her touch, and the illusion of flames and heat subsided. She smiled secretively.

“I am a little bit like the Incubus boys,” she said, “and a lot more unlike. Maybe I can help you.”

“I couldn’t expect that of you, Mona,” Todd said vehemently. “I couldn’t expect it of anyone.”

Mona sat back and considered him, her demeanor softening until it was a degree less unnerving.

“I care about you because you’re Dirk’s entire world,” she said, “but if you hurt him, I can do worse to you than Blackwing did to any of us. Help and harm are closer than you think.”

Todd blinked at the stress doll suddenly beside him on the cushion, and then at the scattered guitar picks. Rather than collect them, he rushed upstairs before Mona could change again.

“Todd?” Dirk murmured, stirring in his nest of covers while Todd got undressed. “You okay?”

“Complicated answer,” Todd said, crawling beneath fever-warm covers and into Dirk’s waiting arms. “Mona spent five minutes as a person just to give me her version of the shovel talk.”

“Pay it no mind,” Dirk yawned, tugging Todd down against the pillows. “You know those theater types. Constant melodrama. She means well.”

“I’m not sure how well she’ll mean in the event I fuck this up,” Todd said softly. “On an ass-kicking scale of Farah to Bart, she was talking, like, Bart with a side of Amanda.”

“What makes you think,” Dirk whispered in Todd’s ear, dipping both hands beneath his waistband, “that _any_ of the fucking you do in this relationship goes unappreciated?”

“Jesus,” Todd hissed, savoring the feel of Dirk’s chest and the progress of Dirk’s agile fingers from his ass down the backs of his thighs. “Dirk, please, you’re not feeling— _this_ —”

“I’m feeling well enough to show you why Mona’s speech was bollocks,” Dirk said, fondling between Todd’s legs. “ _Mmm_. Speaking of.”

Todd shivered helplessly, clinging to Dirk as he applied increasing pressure to just the right spot.

“Listen,” Dirk whispered, withdrawing his hands, pushing Todd’s boxers down to his knees. “We’ll both make messes now and again. It’ll be wretched. Nothing we haven’t done already, right?”

“R—right,” Todd gasped, shoving his boxers down the rest of the way, hastily kicking them off.

“What matters is that we fix what’s gone wrong,” Dirk said, pulling him close, “and we always do.”

 

**Turnabout**

Dirk’s least favorite cooking task was slicing onions. Slicing anything, really, which was why he always tried to get it over with as quickly as possible. Both the knife-handle and cutting board were already slick beneath his touch, and his eyes stung.

“Please remind me why you’re doing this,” Todd begged, crushing a few garlic cloves with the flat of Farah’s cleaver. “We both know that anything you make is barely edible.”

“Amanda would beg to differ,” Dirk said tartly, separating the layered onion-slices into fragments, “and I’ll have you know this is the _one_ thing I make competently.”

“Pasta’s great for feeding a ton of people,” Tina chimed in. “I’m here to test your product.”

Dirk rolled his eyes and tossed several sticky handfuls of onion into the giant sauce-pot.

“You may be Italian-American, but you’ve likely seen the inside of fewer kitchens than me.”

Tina whistled and crossed behind Dirk, bearing a cup full of flawlessly-minced red pepper.

“Better double-check your assumptions. I was a line-cook at Bergsberg’s best diner for years.”

Feeling ridiculous, Dirk tipped the knife and cutting board into the sink. They’d deserve it if he just left now and went to play with the cat, or maybe challenge Mona to Scrabble.

Unexpectedly, Tina caught Dirk’s left hand before he could turn on the tap. She brushed her thumb across the half-round silver band on his ring finger—damn _everything_ , they’d been aiming for unobtrusive—and winked at him.

“Spotted Todd’s earlier,” she said, releasing his hand. “When did you sneak off to get those?”

“We didn’t,” Todd said, scraping garlic-goo into the pot. “Ordered them online. Placeholders.”

“I would rather save people the trouble of being confused,” Dirk added. “We confused Farah.”

“Don’t get me wrong, man, I think it’s awesome,” Tina said, wrestling with a jar of passata, “but _you_ —” she elbowed Todd emphatically from behind “—need to settle down. Must’ve been fun playing the bad boy while it lasted, but, seriously, you weren’t fooling anyone.”

“Tina, that was six years ago,” Todd sighed, rubbing his cheek. “You’re right, I sucked at it.”

“Todd has learned how to suck _much_ more productively,” Dirk said, and then realized why that wasn’t as innocent a compliment as he’d hoped. “I, you know what, never mind.”

The damage already done, Tina didn’t stop cackling for about thirty seconds. She got the jar open, dumped it in the pot, and squared away the remaining two jars without a struggle.

“Dirk, you have no idea the kind of hours this dude used to keep. The amateur circuit is brutal. You’ve gotta be willing to drop everything and go for it. If you wanna get your name out there, you rehearse like forty hours a week, do your own PR, and tour for next to no cash.”

“There’s not a doubt in my mind that Todd commits wholeheartedly to his endeavors,” Dirk said, rummaging in the spice cupboard for his favorites. Basil, marjoram, oregano, rosemary, sage.

“Commit to one thing, drop the ball on other shit,” Tina said bluntly to Todd. “Am I right?”

“Did you, my sister, and Mona have some kind of meeting and agree to ride my ass?” Todd demanded. “This is the third time in less than a week.”

Eager to defuse the exchange, Dirk silently appealed to Todd, who was drying his hands, for help with juggling the spice jars. As soon as Todd came over, Dirk mouthed _thanks_ and kissed him.

“You guys are so hot for each other it blows my mind,” Tina said, poking the sauce with a spoon. “Don’t get me wrong, I nabbed me one _intense_ lady, but you’re a tough act to follow.”

“Then take notes,” mumbled Dirk, pleased when Todd caught on and backed him against the microwave. Snogging in common areas was a handy way of getting people to bugger off.

“How about those spices?” Tina asked, sounding impatient. “C’mon. You can suck face later.”

“It was worth a shot,” Todd said, smugly apologetic, enough to make Dirk wish they were alone.

They chased Tina away from the hob and set about seasoning the passata and minced vegetables, which had begun to bubble. Todd was nervous about Dirk’s lack of precise measurement practice, but Dirk reassured him that the eyeballing method was Jamie Oliver approved.

“Are we putting hamburger in this or something?” Tina asked. “I don’t see any in the fridge.”

“Oh!” Dirk said, remembering. “Mince. It’s still in the microwave, should be thawed now.”

Todd went to fetch it without needing to be asked, so Dirk spared him the usual assessment of his assisting. Anyway, he was no longer Dirk's Assistant or Ward. He was Dirk’s Partner.

“As I was saying,” Tina told him, stepping aside so he could add the beef, “it’s time to settle down. You have a fiancé and a cat that’s the animal equivalent of a teenager.”

Dirk took far too much delight in watching Todd give Tina his most withering bitch-face.

“You don’t have to worry,” he said with level sarcasm. “I know what I’ve signed on for.”

Tina grinned and started to nod as she stirred, as if to some drum-beat that only she could hear.

“Todd, I bet the rest of the guys would freak if they could see you now. Regular family man.”

“The rest of the guys haven’t spoken to me since the band broke up, and they’re not about to start,” Todd said, peering over Tina’s shoulder. “That smells really good.”

“There’s not really a trick to it,” Dirk said, catching Todd around the waist, joining in the rubbernecking. “Bolognaise is the easiest recipe ever. Highly customizable.”

“My granddad would be dumping some cayenne in here, but that’s a bad idea for Dirk’s tummy,” Tina lamented. “It’s awesome with some kick.”

“Exclusion of extreme seasonings much appreciated,” Dirk said curtly. “Food shouldn’t hurt.”

“What’s taking you jerks so long down there?” Amanda yelled from upstairs, where she was still helping Farah pack. “We’re starving, and Jaws is being a dick!”

Tina sniffled, but whether it was from the onions or emotion, Dirk couldn’t immediately tell.

“We’re gonna miss your company, but not the cat-hair,” she said. “Sorry I’m allergic to her.”

“With Lydia back in the country, it only makes sense for Farah to go back to the Spring Estate,” Dirk mused. “She’s still on payroll, and you’ll fare much better in the private sector.”

Todd cleared his throat, clinging to Dirk’s arms around his middle, possibly for moral support.

“Tina,” he said slowly, “in light of the move, have you taken a sec to consider your hypocrisy?”

Shaking her head, Tina stopped mid-stir, wide-eyed, and turned the shake into a stunned nod.

“ _Shit_. Live-in girlfriend and a teenage kid. I guess I’ve been calling the kettle black.”

“If you guys haven’t started boiling the pasta yet, I’m going to be pissed!” Amanda shouted.

Tina elbowed Dirk, offering him a sly sidelong grin. “Guess you an’ me are the lucky ones.”

“Why, because you tamed a couple of lawless desperados?” Todd ventured in exasperation.

“For all you know, I like my boys bad,” Dirk said, hugging Todd tightly. “You never asked.”

 

**Stone-Cold Truth**

While Todd was busy marking off weapons on a checklist as Farah inspected each one, Lydia was chasing Rapunzel around in the vast entryway of her late father’s house. Somebody had dumped the dog off at a local shelter, name-tag intact, and Todd had stumbled across the adoption offerings several nights ago in one of his tireless web searches.

As fond as they both were of the corgi, Dirk had expressed reservations about Jaws’s ability to coexist with another pet. Tina had started whining about how much she loved dogs, so Farah had reluctantly suggested they ask Lydia if she could tolerate Rapunzel’s presence.

The dog was so happy to see Lydia that she’d made a racket the second they entered the shelter.

“ _Augh_!” Lydia shouted, dashing past Todd and Farah in an attempt to grab Rapunzel. “I don’t care how excited you are to see everyone! Bath time!”

Rapunzel sat down next to the staircase and thumped her tail, surrendering to Lydia’s demand.

“That’s better,” Lydia said, scooping her up. “I’ll be ruining the bathroom if anyone needs me.”

Tina came back from the kitchen with three unspilled cups of coffee, which was no easy feat given the distance. She kissed Farah on the cheek, handed her one of the mugs, and then gave one of the others to Todd. Taking a gulp of the remaining one, she nodded in Lydia’s direction.

“Hey, you need help with that pupper?” she offered. “I grew up with two rowdy dalmatians.”

“If you don’t mind getting completely soaked, sure,” Lydia said, continuing up the stairs. “You’re Tina, right? I’ve heard a lot about you from Farah.”

“Tevetino at your service,” Tina said, trailing after Lydia. “Don’t you folks get too trigger-happy down there while I’m gone!”

“Bite me,” Farah said, but she was grinning into her coffee. Her affectionate exasperation was familiar.

Todd set aside his clipboard and tasted the coffee. It was close to the way he liked it, with no milk and just a hint of sugar. Tina’s years of diner work had undoubtedly paid off.

“Are you sure it’s safe for Lydia to be here?” he asked, watching Farah continue to inspect a Derringer. “It’s only been about six months.”

“Six months since the first batch of shit went down,” she agreed, sighting it using a spot on the wall. “Six months since you met Dirk.”

Todd could immediately sense where this conversation was headed, and he didn’t like it.

“Three months since you met Tina,” he countered, slurping coffee. “Are you judging me?”

“I’m judging the wisdom of making an immigration contingency plan your reality when it turned out to be superfluous. Last time I checked, Tina and I were nowhere near _engaged_.”

“Would it kill anybody around here to be happy for us?” Todd demanded. “There’s still no date, remember? Just a—a kind of reservation.”

“I have reservations, too, but you and I aren’t talking about the same kind of reservations,” Farah sighed, setting the gun back down in its drawer. “This isn’t make-believe, Todd. This is serious. Agree to one of Dirk’s impulses, and he’ll see it through to the end of the line.”

Todd gave her a disappointed, stop-shitting-me look. “You know I wouldn’t have told him I was willing to do it if I wasn’t prepared for the result. Do you think I’m an idiot?”

Farah choked on her coffee, throwing her head back in disbelieving laughter. “That is _the_ most messed-up marriage proposal I’ve ever heard of. It’s so _you guys_.”

“Stop trying to dodge the question,” Todd insisted. “We’re talking about Lydia’s safety here.”

“Hobbs called Tina a week ago,” Farah said. “He and Riggins found none of those bald freaks.”

Todd sat with that thought for a few seconds, swilling his coffee. He wondered if Hobbs would’ve agreed to help Riggins if he knew the extent of what Riggins had done to Dirk.

“I guess the universe would’ve prevented her from getting on a plane if the coast wasn’t clear.”

“That’s what I’m thinking,” Farah said contemplatively. She shook her head and finished her coffee, setting the mug down on Dirk’s clipboard. “Friend to friend, can I say something?”

Todd steeled himself and nodded. “Jeez, Farah, yeah,” he said, feeling contrite. “Of course.”

Farah nodded, eyes on the floor, sucking in air like she was afraid of the reason she needed it.

“Dirk is the best thing that’s ever happened to you, or ever _will_ happen to you,” she said, head snapping up. “I know he cares about the rest of us like family, but—listen, Todd, straight-up? He loves you like most people can only dream of being loved. You’re the only real home he’s ever had. Just…promise me you’ll be the man he believes you are, okay?”

“Amanda saw to that a long time ago,” Todd promised, smiling. “Dirk just finished the job.”

“Ugh, we’re gross,” Farah said, wiping her eyes. “So is this, and, dude,” she went on, her tears turning to mirth, “that _kiss_ was ridiculous, like—were we even thinking?”

“I don’t know about you,” Todd said, deciding he owed her the truth, “but I was thinking about how much I missed Dirk. It was a distraction, I—I needed it. Maybe you did, too.”

“Thank God I didn’t sleep with you,” Farah said, grinning at him. “Tina’s told me some stories.”

“Yeah, so I wasn’t great at being a rock star!” Todd snapped. “Why’s everybody rubbing it in?”

“We want to make sure you’re ready for this,” Farah said. “We want you and Dirk to be happy.”

“I don’t even think I knew _how_ to be happy until I met Dirk,” Todd said, realizing with sudden trepidation that he hadn’t seen Dirk since they arrived. “Wait, where…”

Farah, not even needing to hear the remainder of Todd’s wary thought, followed him outside.

At some point, the Rowdy 3 had turned up and parked behind the truck. The van’s door was wide open, and they’d removed the seats for purposes of lounging in the yard.

Vogel occupied one of these, and Beast was crouched in front of him, purr-growling in contentment while Vogel brushed and re-braided segments of her hair. Both of them waved.

Martin, Cross, and Gripps were visible only as pairs of boots protruding from beneath the van.

Amanda occupied the other seat, and Dirk was perched beside her. She was painting what appeared to be the last of Dirk’s nails that _wasn’t_ already covered in glossy violet polish.

Dirk looked at Todd and beamed, tugging the collar of the studded leather jacket he was wearing.

“This is brilliant,” he gushed. “Now I actually _look_ like the parent of a black cat, don’t I?”

Todd surrendered a half-smile, struck by how insufferably cute Dirk could be when something delighted him. He sat down beside Dirk, watching Amanda work on him.

“You look hot, is what,” Todd said, leaning close to minimize the chances of prying ears.

Martin crawled out from under the van, flexing his grease-covered hands, and stepped up behind them. He pointed from Todd to Dirk, his expression facetiously severe.

“Drummer’s Brother,” he said, “what’s all this I’ve heard from the Detective about a wedding?”

 

**Heart to Heart**

In the end, as in the beginning, it was Lydia Spring whose actions changed Dirk’s world.

Simply put, the girl got sick of all the bickering about who should perform the civil ceremony, and where. She grew fed up with Tina talking over Dirk’s insistence that nothing should be over-the-top, and she got tired of Farah trying to convince Todd to let her pay for a reception venue big enough to invite friends from out of town if they wanted.

Lydia Spring, billionaire heiress and dog-mum extraordinaire, shelled out $300 for a no-nonsense, self-appointed Elopement Specialist to marry Dirk and Todd in their own back garden. This, the day after instructing them, via text, to sneak off to the county office for a license.

Farah and Tina had been grumpy about the last-minute summons to witness, whereas Lydia had been smug. The Rowdy 3, all six of them, were happily enough on-call as insurance.

Mona had agreed to take human form only up until the moment the union was finalized, at which point she intended to resume chair-hood. Better to be both happy and useful, she had argued, but not before throwing her arms around Todd in an unprecedented show of affection.

The Elopement Specialist’s role in the proceedings took all of ten minutes, and the poor woman was clearly befuddled at the variability of dress-code amongst the guests. Even Dirk had decided against extreme propriety, although his blue jacket was in order because Todd liked it best.

When the put-upon officiant asked if they’d written any vows, Dirk just shrugged, and Todd said, no, not really. They’d spent months upon months having private conversations that fit the bill, so why did any of that need a rehash? The absence of pink plasters was a relief.

Bart and Ken had been invited, too, but they turned up late and had to pick the front-door lock in order to sneak through the house and out to the back. Bart shouting about not having had time to wrap their gift as they arrived during the you-may-now-kiss part was _perfect_.

To top it all off, Amanda—bless her oddly traditional heart—insisted it wasn’t official until they’d both stepped on a wine-glass wrapped in a napkin. It took them a while to shatter it, which was mildly embarrassing.

Bart’s gift was an iridescent journal with _THINGS TO FIGURE OUT LATER_ stamped on the cover. She hugged them and shoved it at Dirk’s chest, her laughter giving way to tears.

“I mean, it’s for the both of you,” she said, wiping her nose on her sleeve, “but mostly for Dirk.”

“Oh,” Dirk said, turning the silvery, shifting-rainbow object in his hands. “You shouldn’t have.”

“Dirk needs it way more than I do,” Todd reassured her, winking at a thoroughly mortified Ken.

“Oi, shut it,” Dirk said snippily, and then grinned at Bart. “Not that I couldn’t say it before, but I can say that whenever I want now and not worry it’s rude. He’s my husband.”

“Hey, Ken,” Bart said, chewing her thumbnail, turning around to face him. “Can we do this?”

“Definitely not,” Ken said looking slightly shell-shocked, but not displeased, “until I have had at _least_ several drinks and spent some time reviewing my life-choices.”

“Dunno what there is to question,” said Bart, pointedly. “I’ll kill anybody who messes with you. As long as you’re with me, you can’t die. We can both get hurt, maybe, but you taught me that’s the way the world works sometimes. As long as you love me, it doesn’t matter.”

Ken took Bart by the shoulders and steered her toward the refreshment table, where Vogel was arranging crackers and cheese. Beast had already started serving decorous half-cups of punch.

Wisely, the Elopement Specialist had slipped away while nobody was paying sufficient attention.

Dirk grabbed Todd’s hand and squeezed it, dragging him toward Amanda, who sat at the only other table in the yard. She had Dirk’s laptop open in front of her and was frowning at it.

“Playlist!” Dirk whispered loudly, gesturing at the trackpad. “The reception part is starting!”

Amanda glanced up at Todd, who nodded at her like the faithful and adoring spouse he was.

“There’s some depressing shit on here,” she said, double-clicking at random. “Who picked it?”

“Dirk did,” Todd said immediately, which made Amanda spectacularly lose her composure.

“It is not,” Dirk insisted, tugging Todd out to where Farah and Tina were already dancing. “I was aiming for joyful, yet whimsically pensive. What? _Why_ is this funny?”

“Dirk, I love you,” Todd said, wiping the corner of his eye. “[This song’s not even in English](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZzFYmz2lfT4).”

“Well, no,” Dirk said, wrapping Todd’s arms around his neck, which is where they should have been at least a minute ago. “It’s French. Believe me when I say I’m sacrificing a lot here.”

Dirk wrapped his arms around Todd’s waist, relieved when no further wise-cracks were forthcoming. He pressed his cheek to Todd’s temple as they swayed, just listening.

“I’d sing this if I knew the translation,” Todd said after an entrancing minute. “What is it?”

Overcome with how the moment seemed to stretch—perfect, suspended—Dirk lowered his mouth to Todd’s ear. He waited until the chorus swelled to the one phrase he could remember.

“But if you say just one word,” he whispered along with the recording, “I’ll stay with you.”

Todd turned his chin up, the twist of his lips somewhere between exasperated and ecstatic.

“Was _yes_ the one you wanted?” he asked. “I hope so, because I couldn’t even refuse—”

Dirk kissed him, too dizzy to speak, squeezing his eyes shut on the disbelieving sting of tears.

“You are so, so much worse than slicing onions,” he said breathlessly when they drew apart.

Todd set his hand against Dirk’s cheek to keep him from turning in response to sudden applause.

“I didn’t get you anything else,” he said apologetically. “We could barely afford the rings.”

“Farah’s investment would have covered more, I’m sure,” Dirk said hesitantly, “but wisely done. I feel guilty about what I’m about to tell you, but I can’t keep it a secret. My gift to you is more of a gift from Farah, we—there’s this ludicrous rule about keeping a certain amount of money in a certain kind of bank account for a certain amount of time, but—well, there’s such an account in your name. The clock’s ticking. You’ll be able to apply for residency as my spouse should we ever end up in England, and by then I’m sure we’d be secure enough to give the money back—”

Todd quieted Dirk with another kiss, inadvertently filling Bart’s shouted request for an encore.

“We could retire there,” he said, grinning so hard it likely hurt. “Isn’t that what detectives do?”

“Everybody thinks the South Downs are all that, but I _suppose_ ,” Dirk sighed. “Just like Holmes and Watson. Only without the bees, obviously, because you’re allergic.”

“Sorry for saying I wasn’t your Watson,” Todd offered, slightly teary. “I’m an asshole for that.”

“Oh, for the love of God, this _is_ depressing,” Dirk laughed. “Amanda! Play anything you like!”


End file.
